


Milk and Cookies for Hawkmoth

by CaughtFeelings, Djaeka



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Gen, Good Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth, Good Parent Gabriel Agreste, Minor Adrien Agreste/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Minor Emilie Agreste/Gabriel Agreste | Papillon | Hawk Moth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:06:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25078105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaughtFeelings/pseuds/CaughtFeelings, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djaeka/pseuds/Djaeka
Summary: What present do you give someone who has everything they could possibly want, and is so consistently, selflessly generous?You latch on to the one thing they ask for, and try to get it for them, every time.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 81





	Milk and Cookies for Hawkmoth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Remasa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Remasa/gifts).



Hawkmoth didn’t really consider himself a good person, per se.

Whether good people even existed was questionable at best. People are people: they make mistakes. They are driven by their selfish interests, their limited perspectives, and their alliances and enemies, and there wasn’t really any point in debating the merits of whether he was going to go to Heaven or Hell if the whole point of Hawkmothing was that he and his loved ones would avoid dying altogether.

What token of thanks could a lycée student really offer him that would matter, when he was acting on a reality-defying scale?

There wasn’t really any altruism in his offer to make the shy, gruff teenager from Collège Françoise Dupont into his first Akuma; he needed a test subject. Ivan seemed hardy enough to take any kind of negative side effects in stride. It was a fundamentally symbiotic relationship, and he brushed off Ivan’s “how can I thank you,” without really internalizing it.

YOU COULD BRING ME THE MIRACULOUSES OF THE LADYBUG AND BLACK CAT, he Felt, more to himself than meaning to say it out loud.

He hadn’t realized that Stoneheart would be able to Feel it, too, of course. Nobody was more surprised than Hawkmoth when Stoneheart considered it, then nodded resolutely.

“That seems fair.”

It took a moment for the banter to even register in Hawkmoth’s mind as a bargain, and by then, it was too late.

...WHAT?

* * *

YOU’RE NOT GOING TO BE ABLE TO FIND THE MIRACULOUSES.

Stoneheart bellowed in rage, but didn’t need to vocalize for Hawkmoth to hear his emotions, loud and clear.

_Just like Kim-_

_-so quick to dismiss me-_

_-set me up-_

_-if you think all there is to me is my size-_

Hawkmoth sighed, as Stoneheart leaped onto the exterior wall of _Gabriel_ ’s corporate office, causing hundreds of thousands of euros in property damage, and probably traumatizing the staff. He could afford it, of course, and nobody exactly expected to _retire_ from _Gabriel_ , but he could expect them to use their EAP therapy sessions in the near future and that had disturbing implications for the upcoming deadline.

Maybe he could cater some pastries for them and announce an Employee Appreciation Day.

Maybe he could use some of their negative emotions for his next trial run.

NOBODY HAS EVEN SEEN THE MIRACULOUSES FOR HUNDREDS OF YEARS. JUST GO GET YOUR REVENGE ON YOUR CLASSMATE. ALL I NEED IS YOUR RAGE.

_-big, dumb, scary Ivan-_

_-I’ll prove it, I’ll prove it to you-_

_-only thing you want is the Miraculouses, definitely going to get them for you-_

Hawkmoth sighed, but glanced over at Nathalie, who was archiving battle data with the ferocity of an Interpol agent gathering data from a ransom call. Ultimately, every moment Stoneheart was active was another data point about how the Butterfly Miraculous worked and better consulting results from Nathalie, and she was making a “go on” gesture with her hand as she typed, one-handed, across the keyboard.

OKAY. JUST KEEP IN MIND THAT THEY MIGHT NOT EVEN BE IN PARIS YET. THIS MIGHT TAKE SOME TIME—

He Felt Stoneheart’s surprise through the empathic link.

“Hey! It’s not very nice to pick on someone smaller than you!”

Hawkmoth blinked at the Black Cat hero, who had taken fifteen minutes (by generous estimate) to present himself after hundreds of years of hiding. Hawkmoth had had to go all the way to _Tibet_ to find the Butterfly. Had the Black Cat _really_ been in his home city this whole time? Was it really going to be so simple?

Evidently yes, as the Ladybug hero swung into view almost immediately after.

If all that he needed to retrieve the first Miraculous was one attempt, he was going to design something fabulous for Ivan and the two teenagers that were apparently the universe’s manifestation of ‘good things coming to good people with just causes’. They deserved it, they needed it, and—he frowned, thoughtful—they appeared to be about Adrien’s age. Maybe he might have found the lonely child some worthy friends.

* * *

Stoneheart had never been created with the intention of taking the Miraculouses of Ladybug and Chat Noir. The intention was to make him big, loud, and intimidating: a vanguard for Hawkmoth to draw out the Miraculouses of the Ladybug and Black Cat from hiding. He himself was never supposed to be the strategy for obtaining them. How was Stoneheart supposed to take a Miraculous when he didn’t even know what a Miraculous was?

Keeping in mind what Stoneheart’s _actual_ objective was, he was successful! TVi was swarming the story, and a so-called _Ladyblog_ had popped up to cover the newly active superpowered hotspot in Paris. Gabriel was only a little bit disappointed that it wasn’t about himself, but notoriety had never really been his goal. What would it even be called? _The Hawkmoth Herald? Purple Prose? Akuma Mañana?_ It didn’t really matter—the threat was present, the heroes had been drawn out, and he could take the time he needed for Nathalie’s analysis to be complete and for him to select the most strategic next host possible.

The whisper network caught him by surprise.

_Hawkmoth will give you superpowers._

_What? Me?_

_Yes, you. Anybody. He found a lycée student having a normal day. Any negative emotion, anywhere in the city, and you, too, could be Special._

_That can’t be right. Last time, it was just about someone who didn’t have the guts to tell the person they liked how they felt. It’s probably just love problems._

By the time Gabriel realized the rumor had spread, it was too late to contain it. But surely, it had not yet reached crisis levels? Were there really that many people in Paris struggling to confess their feelings to each other?

Over the course of the afternoon, literally dozens of emotionally repressed people called down identical copies of the exact same butterfly, answering his question with a resounding _yes_.

* * *

This was getting out of hand.

It was good battle data that he could _make_ the Akumas, yet he was distressed to find out that he only had limited control over them once he did. _Stoneheart had just thrown Adrien’s only friend off the Eiffel Tower,_ and what was he supposed to do if bringing Emilie back meant potentially mortally wounding Chloé? He definitely didn’t want to make Adrien go through all of the pain of losing someone close to him, and wasn’t sure whether the Miraculouses would still be in Paris when he was done, of if they would need another few hundred years to recharge. Just because the life support system in the basement would be vacant didn’t mean it had to be repurposed immediately.

Hawkmoth would do anything for his wife, but could not afford to allow anyone to get hurt based on his own negligence. It was time to get a little more personally involved.

The swarm of butterflies out of Stoneheart’s mouth was probably excessive, but it got the message across.

I’D LIKE TO SET SOME REALISTIC EXPECTATIONS, he tried desperately. I’M JUST TRYING TO OFFER SOME VIABLE SOLUTIONS TO PROBLEMS THAT ARE NOT AS INSURMOUNTABLE AS THEY SEEM—

His attention was fully focused on controlling the butterfly swarm, and he missed the Ladyblogger’s announcement until too late.

_Hawkmoth will give you superpowers, if you steal the Miraculouses of Ladybug and Chat Noir._

Hawkmoth felt the Strong Emotions of the city as one, narrowing on Ladybug and Chat Noir, and trying to crowdsource how to mug them.

* * *

* * *

Marinette winced as she took the first sip of Master Fu’s tea, and the hot liquid hit the spot where she had been chewing on her inner cheek due to nerves. This conversation was going to be awkward, no matter what happened. He either wasn’t paying attention, or he graciously pretended not to notice, as he put down the cast iron teapot and sat across from her.

“Your plan is… unorthodox, to put it mildly,” he commented.

Marinette smiled. “But isn’t that how the Ladybug Miraculous works? We put together a crazy enough plan, and then put together the pieces in a way that it works out okay?”

Master Fu hummed quietly, looking down into his teacup, deep in thought.

“Perhaps I was wrong to consider you as the next Guardian,” he said. “The first and most important duty of a Guardian is to protect the Miraculouses from those that would use them for evil. This does not seem like a plan to rescue Nooroo; it seems like a plan of surrender. What strategic advantage do you gain by this?”

Marinette glanced off to the side, where Tikki and Wayzz were sitting on a record that was spinning on the gramophone; the record was turning but the needle was not on it, allowing them to ride it around and around in circles. Every so often, one of the kwamis would say “whee!” ever so softly, so as not to disrupt the humans as they talked.

“Part of being the new Guardian, as opposed to just a hero, is strategic thinking,” Marinette said, trying to phrase this as politely as possible. She didn’t want to offend the current Guardian so soon after Feast. “Everything we’ve been doing so far has been largely reactive thinking. We wait for an Akuma to show up, we fight them, we purify them, we do it again tomorrow, the whole process keeps us tired enough and on our toes to the point that we can’t really think about the big picture. 

“Akumas aren’t exactly rational strategic thinkers, either,” she continued. “Hawkmoth tends to get people when they’re the most focused on their own lives and problems, and they don’t typically calm down enough to talk until they’ve been purified—at which point, breaking the Akumatized object erases their memories and they’re useless for gathering information. So we’ve been taking notes when they were available, and charting where Akumas were likely to spawn. After that, we’ve tried to figure out how soon after the likely Akumatizing incident people receive their butterflies, and attempted to triangulate a Lair from there. But butterflies—even butterflies on a mission—tend to move lazily and stop often, and it wasn’t really giving us very good data. We didn’t get a true breakthrough until last week.”

Master Fu frowned in confusion. “When you needed to tell Chris to wait for Christmas? That didn’t work well. It’s July.”

“Not exactly,” Marinette said, shrugging. She wore her hair down, today, and was still getting used to it brushing her shoulders. “I’m talking about Oblivio. They were surprisingly rational, for being Akumatized, and knowing how important secrecy was to them was all of the incentive Hawkmoth needed to actually talk to them. He told them everything. And while Oblivio forgot, and everyone they affected forgot, the video blog that I took while fighting them remembered everything.”

“This is great news!” Master Fu exclaimed, standing quickly and smiling. “We can bring him to justice immediately!”

His face fell, though, as Marinette remained seated, sipping her tea.

“What’s wrong, Ladybug?” he asked.

She looked up at him, after a moment.

“What has Hawkmoth actually done wrong?”

Stunned, Master Fu said nothing, so Marinette continued.

“Time after time after time, people attract butterflies when they’re feeling alone: when they feel like they have no one to turn to, or no one can help them. It doesn’t matter whether that’s _true_ , what matters is that they’re hurting. Hawkmoth is there, and helps, or tries his best to. Sometimes, after the Akuma is purified—and if I have enough time left to stick around and talk to the person who was Akumatized—I realize there isn’t anything that could have been done for the person in terms of normal solutions. The projects are too big, the odds are too bad for them, and all anybody but Hawkmoth could have done for them was to listen and be a friend. But if Akumatization doesn’t solve their problems, it at least bleeds off enough of the negative energy that normal coping mechanisms are enough. Chat Noir and I protect the city from collateral damage, but, when you look at the data, Hawkmoth is actually trying to solve the problems from the outset.”

Master Fu was still tense, and his eyes darted from the Kwamis, to Ladybug, to the door, uncertainly. “It is true that Akumatization addresses people’s problems with a versatility and effectiveness that few other Miraculouses can,” he explained, quietly. “But Guardian lore has explained in no uncertain terms that people who seek the Ladybug and the Black Cat for selfish reasons sometimes have catastrophic fallout. These two Miraculouses, together, have the power to reshape reality in functionally any way. I am suspicious of whatever desires are professed by those who do not have them yet. Once they are in their hands, their dreams tend to be, shall we say, more ambitious?”

“Maybe,” Marinette hummed, taking another sip of her tea. “And maybe, people will surprise you.”

Master Fu sighed in exasperation, then turned to Tikki. “Surely, you cannot approve of this plan?”

Tikki had been sitting in the mouth of the gramophone, and looked up from her macaron with wide, innocent eyes. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly condone any rule breaking as ancient and laden with tradition as deliberately surrendering a Miraculous to someone who wants to make a Wish,” Tikki said earnestly. “Why, no Guardian has allowed it since humans learned how to write, and there has never been an instance of a Wish being successfully made that Fluff or Sass can recall either! Marinette is as diligent and responsible a Guardian trainee as they come. Plagg, however, has always been something of a rebel—and his Chat Noir does love his freedom.”

“It’s a big risk,” Marinette confessed. “But we don’t actually have any evidence that it will require some kind of sacrifice as a balance, because everyone has been too afraid to try it. What if it goes wrong, sure. We ask Fluff to take us back in time and do something else. But what if it goes _right?_ ”

Master Fu stared, open-mouthed, at Tikki, then strode for the door. He tried to throw it open, but the Shellter that had been constructed around the apartment only let it open a few inches.

“You, too, Wayzz?”

He looked at Master Fu, expression unreadable. “Eventually, you are going to have to defer to the new Guardian,” he said, shrugging, “and her logic is solid.”

The gramophone was thrown open to reveal the Miracle Box, and the drawer for Kaalki was drawn, but it was empty.

“When you mentioned putting together the pieces,” he asked Marinette cautiously.

She grinned. “I suspected you wouldn’t approve. I had hoped you would, but there’s no reason to tell someone a plan they might not approve of, unless it’s already in motion. I just needed to buy some time for Chat Noir. He wants only one thing more than anything else in this world, after all.”

Absently, she tucked a strand of hair behind her ears, and Master Fu noticed that the lobes were empty.

* * *

Adrien sat in his room, both Miraculouses in his hands, staring at them with eyes that glowed an unnatural purple.

I HAD NEVER WANTED YOU TO BE SO SAD THAT YOU WOULD TAKE MY BUTTERFLY. NAME ANYTHING IN THIS WORLD THAT YOU DESIRE, AND IT IS YOURS.

“I want my family back,” Adrien said, without hesitation. “If you can manage that, these are yours, together with my eternal gratitude.”

An awkward pause.

YOU DON’T OWE ME ANYTHING, ADRIEN. EVEN YOUR THANKS. NOT FOR A REQUEST LIKE THAT.

Adrien grinned. “I owe a lot of people a lot of things, and as exhausting as duty and obligations are, I like to believe I do a pretty good job of meeting them. I’m not offering you these because I _owe_ them to you. I’m offering them because I _want_ to. Good deeds can be their own reward— but do they have to be the _only_ reward?”

* * *

* * *

Marinette’s eyes scrunched up as she braced herself for another crashing sound. Louis hadn’t been careful, and the bowl was across the counter from her—too far to leap without flinging a hot pan into Emma’s lap. So she closed her eyes and listened, opening them when she didn’t immediately hear shattering.

Noticing her grinning husband had caught it at the last second, she breathed a sigh of relief. Marinette flashed him a wry smile back, acknowledging that he’d probably had a point earlier when he said the kids should decorate the cookies, but shouldn’t necessarily make the frosting themselves. 

She tossed a piping bag across the counter and Adrien scooped a child appropriate amount of frosting inside before handing it off to Louis. He slid a tray of cooled cookies toward his son, kissing his forehead before taking the hot tray from the counter to cool elsewhere. 

Marinette plopped a bottle of sprinkles onto the counter, knowing the children would be begging for it next. She removed the last tray of sugar cookies from the oven, her parents’ special holiday recipe, and flicked the oven off. 

“Mama, the story!” Hugo crowed, his words muffled by a mouthful of their recently prepared treats, while crumbs from his declaration dropped over a plate of cookies. 

Marinette groaned, reminded herself that they were for family and not for sale, then noted which plate he’d been decorating—mentally setting them aside for Hugo to have later. 

“Alright. Santa Claus! What do we already know about him?”

“He brings presents!”

“He’s real, Papa met him!”

“Mmfrrm!” 

Adrien snorted, forcing it down quickly so the children didn’t think they’d done something that bore repeating. “Buddy, chew the cookies and then speak.”

Marinette sighed and handed a napkin to each child, continuing to speak. “So Santa Claus doesn’t just bring any old presents. He’s magic.”

She beamed at the children, waving her hands in the air as if scattering sparkles above their heads.

“And because he’s magic, yes he knows if you’re good.” A gentle boop to Louis’ nose.

“And if you’re good, he will bring you what you wish for the most in the world.”

“Anything?” Marinette smiled down into Emma’s bright, hopeful eyes and kissed her forehead. 

“Yes, sweetheart. But he asks us to do something for him in return! Who knows what that is?”

The children shook their heads slowly, glancing around the room as if they thought they knew the answer but didn’t want to be the first to say. Marinette set a large tray on the counter top, placing a glass and plate on top. 

“Alright guys, pick your favorite,” Adrien urged, leaning over their shoulders to see what they chose. Eyes lighting up, the children each chose an excessively sugary cookie to present on the plate.

Once the cookies were in place, Adrien poured milk into the glass and grinned over at his wife.

“All he asks for in return is milk—” Marinette leaned over to kiss Adrien, who slipped his ring off onto the tray, “—and cookies.” Marinette removed her earrings, balancing them carefully next to Adrien’s ring.

“Maman? Papa? Why are you taking your ring and earrings off? You said you never take those ones off. Are you giving them to Santa?”

Adrien barked out a laugh while Marinette smiled.

“These are very, very important, and we don’t ever let anything happen to them, but we sometimes take them off to give to people we trust and who will be responsible with them. You remember that sometimes we swap them? Who could be more trustworthy than Santa?”

The children laughed at the idea. Of course, Santa was trustworthy!

“But back to Santa. What does he get out of bringing toys and gifts to everyone at Christmas?”

“Umm, the cookies and milk?” Emma mumbled, eyes on the cookies and thumb in her mouth.

“Exactly!” Marinette praised, pulling Emma’s hand away from her mouth. “Someone who does so much for everyone else and only asks for one thing in return, shouldn’t we do our best to give him the one wish he has as well?”

The children murmured a scattering of agreement, and Marinette smiled at them once more before lifting the tray and leading a line of children into the foyer to join the rest of the family. 

* * *

Hours later, when carols had been sung and too many treats eaten, Emma sat up from a light nap on the couch.

Gabriel was off to the side of the couch, standing guard over Santa’s cookies and milk. He was sketching lazily and smiling slightly, watching Adrien swing Louis in a wide circle by his feet in the center of the room.

Emma scooted closer to him, peeking at the sketchbook in the hopes that it might be a new dress for her, like the time she spied on Maman and caught a glimpse of her birthday dress. 

After a moment or two, he glanced down at her nearing his elbow and his eyes narrowed in amusement as he gave her a small smile. Emma jammed her thumb back in her mouth and watched him.

“What are you Wishing for for Christmas, grand-père?”

He chuckled. “Nothing, sweetie.”

Gabriel set the pencil down, reaching out to wrap an arm around Emma’s tiny shoulders.

He looked around the room, eyes stopping on each person briefly and his smile warmed minutely with each individual he stopped on. He finished scanning the room, looking down at Emma snuggling into his side and wrinkling his suit jacket.

“Come sit on my lap,” he murmured to her, tucking aside the tablet. “I want to show you something.”

She nodded, and he lifted her, settling her in and pointing at each person in turn.

“Your grandmother, by the light of the Christmas tree. She’s the first person I really loved with my whole heart, you know. I lost her for a while, but she’s back, and I never, ever take that for granted.

“Now look at your papa, giving Louis a piggy back ride. He’s being so silly, don’t you think? I was so scared for a long time because I didn’t know how to raise him all by myself, but he turned out to be so much stronger than I realized, and I was so much less alone than I thought. I would never have been able to do any of this without him.

“Now look at Hugo. You have to squint to see him; he’s being so sneaky, trying to tiptoe into the kitchen to steal a cookie. He doesn’t realize your mama is a perfectionist and cleverer than anyone else on Earth. She’s waiting in the kitchen, and she’s going to catch him and tickle him.

“On the mantle, a Christmas card from Master Fu. He and I didn’t get along for a long time, because we weren’t very good at communicating with each other. Your mama and papa helped with that, and in the end, we discovered we had more in common than we realized.

“And, of course, there’s the company. Nathalie is taking good care of it. I thought, for a long time, she was the best assistant anybody could ever ask for. I don’t know when she started being a friend, too.

“This is so much. This is so much more than I ever could have dreamed of, more than I could possibly have asked. I have everything I want, right here.”

Emma’s eyes went from person, to person, again, thinking, and frowning slightly.

“But then what are we supposed to _give_ you?” she asked, eventually. “Everybody deserves a present on Christmas! And you give us so much!”

“Nothing, sweetie,” he responded. “You don’t owe me anything at all.”

Emma’s lips puffed up in a small pout and she glared down at the carpet for a moment, and then turned, and gave him the kind of determined stare her mother used to.

“Milk and cookies for you too, then,” she said, adamantly.

“Every single Christmas, as it turns out,” Adrien interjected, a wicked twinkle in his eye.

“And birthday,” Marinette called from the kitchen, carrying Hugo over her shoulder.

“And Father’s Day,” Adrien added. “Can’t forget Father’s Day.”

“The anniversaries,” Emilie added helpfully. “And my birthday. And your birthday.”

“And heroes’ day,” Marinette added. “All the family friends come over and give you milk and cookies on heroes’ day.”

“When else? Armistice Day—”

“Good deeds are allowed to be their own reward, you know,” he murmured, getting embarrassed at the ostentatious show of affection. Deep within the Christmas tree, flashes of red, black, and lavender, hard at work preparing for the night ahead, sent a Transmission of mirth and love. “Not everything in life has to be paid for.”

“And the people who think like that,” Emilie said, walking over and kissing him on the cheek, “are _good people.”_

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday, to a friend who insists that I really don't need to get them anything.
> 
> (also thank you for pun assistance Tempomental, basically writing the fluff for me Djaeka, and beta assistance Sheeoni)


End file.
